


What if?

by 7aurora9



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7aurora9/pseuds/7aurora9
Summary: A slow burn Dramione full of what-if’s.What if Draco was saddled with an unforgiveable task against a certain blonde haired muggleborn? What happens when he fails?  What happens when Voldemort discovers he failed? What happens when Hermione is stuck at Malfoy manor instead of apparating to Shell Cottage with Dobby and the rest? What if Draco is ordered to look after her? Bait her to get to Harry? What would he do?What if?Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.





	1. Chapter 1.

The freshly burned mark ached against his pale skin, itching against his black robes as he tugged on the sleeve slightly, paranoid that someone might see the swirling black ink around his wrist. Before he had gotten branded with the skeletal dark mark, he’d for sure thought he would be beyond anxious to show it off the moment he got to school. However, after navigating through Kings Cross with his parents, nose pointed in the air as they dropped him off, looking down at all the other students and their parents as if they were scum, a common occurrence amongst the Malfoy’s, he was hit with a wave of uncertainty that would pain him for the coming months. 

“Now, Draco. Do us proud,” his father said, his sunken features were hidden behind his long blonde hair albeit poorly so. The last year hadn’t been so kind to the Malfoy family and it was displayed across all three members of the prestigious family. He sneered at what appeared to be a fourth year brushing past him before his mother was now up, placing a hand on her son’s cheek, a flash of fear and sadness hiding behind her green eyes as she peered down at her, silently bidding him adieu. He barely remembered boarding the Hogwarts Express, Crabbe and Goyle grunting about Merlin-knows-what next to him as they made their way to their usual compartment. The only thing to penetrate his sullen mood was the gloom hanging in the air, a much different aura than every year previous. Instead of the laughing and commotion, students running up and down the corridors, there was awkward silence and order, a penetrating chill clinging through the air. The laughter that was unmistakably absent was replaced with hushed whispered and gasps as the glass windowpanes of the compartments began to creek and frost over signaling the oncoming Dementor, roaming through the hall, hissing at students left and right, causing more than a few to burst into tears. 

Even he was affected by the sight of this situation, the feeling of the Dementors causing a permanent chill to attack his spine. Even Potter and his insufferable trio’s absence was palpable but for that, he was ever-so-thankful. Through his grogginess and bitter thoughts, he had still been on the lookout for a certain bushy mane to solidify his tasks’ completion. Good thing he had his own wretched thoughts to consume him for the next few months. 

His task, a task he was saddled with by Voldemort himself in order to receive his Dark Mark was unlike anything he could have imagined. He had asked to be taken more seriously. He had asked for an assignment, something to prove his worth. But never in his wildest dreams would he be expected to kill someone. A someone, however annoying she was, that didn’t deserve said fate. He would never forget the conversation with Voldemort when he dealt out his unforgiveable task.

“Harry Potter is only as strong as those around him. I think, maybe, it’s time to pluck them off… one… by… one,” each word flowing slowly from his thin, pale lips, each as calculated as the next. “Lets start with that wretched mudblood everyone is so fond of. That shouldn’t be too hard, should it?” 

That’s where the stem of his confliction began. Sure, Granger was exceptionally annoying, but still. Maybe he didn’t believe the things his parents bore into his brain from such a young age. He struggled, all summer until Voldemort finally confronted him. 

“It’s done,” was all he said. And before he knew it, he was being branded, congratulated, and shipped off back to school the next day in which he hoped, he prayed that she wouldn’t show. Harry Potter would be foolish to show his Undesirable number one face at school and he would’ve bet his life that ranger and Weasley would be wherever Harry was. He tried to think of back up plan after back up plan for when Voldemort would find out he failed because he would eventually find out. Draco wasn’t stupid and neither was Voldemort. And he didn’t fail. He didn’t even try. 

The anguish, self loathing, and fear had done a number on him as the days turned into weeks, his physical and mental state both deteriorating as the days dragged on.

Breakfast Christmas morning, before he would leave for Malfoy Manor, his all time favorite holiday, couldn’t have started off on a worse note. A red envelope sat upon the empty gold plate at the table from where he sat every day and his stomach dropped. Who would send him a howler? What had he done? 

Or not done?

Surrounding eyes were already peering in his directions, bulging with anticipation. He rolled his eyes, annoyed on the outside, panicked within. He let a thumb slide open the wax seal and the letter popped to life, shaking itself open right in front of him. The unmistakable voice of the Dark Lord seeped out of the envelope, leaving a chill down his spine and a prickle up his arm.

“My dearest Draco,” the Dark Lord began, voice calm and collected, an eerie aspect in and of itself. “This isn’t to reprimand you but to congratulate you in front of all your peers for successfully knocking an annoying peg off of Harry Potter’s support system. My condolences to Miss Granger’s peers but perhaps this will serve as a message to those who feel inclined to side with the… wrong team,” he concluded, each word more menacing than the next. The Howler closed and ripped itself to shreds before turning into ash and disappearing altogether. 

But now it was all coming to fruition. In front of the entire school. There was no hiding it anymore. But this was worse. This was his punishment, he was sure of it. Convince his classmates that he had killed “one of their own”. None of his plans told him what to do in this instance. He could feel all eyes, students and teachers alike, all turn towards him, glaring daggers into his skin. Thankfully, his poker face would be one of his greatest strengths. He merely quirked an eyebrow and held his head up high as if he was not ashamed of working so closely with the Dark Lord, spooning a mouthful of oatmeal into his mouth nonchalantly. But they had no idea. 

The train ride home was a long one, a difficult one, a great sense of impending doom flooding within him. Along with that, the feeling that he would never return to Hogwarts also nagged at him. How could he return after that? Would it even be safe for him? Would those students retaliate or would no one care?

He arrived at Malfoy manor at the most inopportune time. Just in time for his Aunt Bellatrix to grab him by the scruff of the neck and practically throw him at a horribly disfigured Harry Potter, barking questions at him left and right. His wand was knocked out of his hands and he heard someone shuffled to pick it up but he was too distracted by what was being presented in front of him so suddenly. 

“It’s him, innit Draco? It’s Harry Potter?” his aunt hissed emergently in his ear.

“I-I can’t be sure,” he said even though it was glaringly obvious. He couldn’t commit either way. If he confirmed their suspicions, it would surely be a death threat for Harry and he didn’t need that to ride his conscience for life. 

“Well, look closer!” she hissed, slamming him down to his knees so he was now face-to-face, nose-to-nose with a badly beaten Potter. His eyesight, however, went right over the unruly black hair to see a restrained Granger staring right at him and he froze, mouth slightly agape. He let his eyes wander quickly around the room, taking stock as to who was there and thankfully, who wasn’t. Voldemort hadn’t arrived yet. Maybe they still had time to prevent him from being called. 

Unfortunately, his dad came forward, yanking him up to a standing position. “You know what this would mean for us, don’t you, Draco? Our family name could be restored if we were the ones to return Harry to the Dark Lord,” he whispered frantically. 

“L-look, look. This is that Granger girl, right?” he asked, both full of fear for his son’s life for failing his task but also full of excitement that putting two and two together meant that one blonde, one redhead and one blacked haired boy with a squiggly, possible scar meant the capture of Harry Potter.

Hermione locked eyes with him the moment the words left his dads lips, fear flooding through both of them but he was helpless. He didn’t have time to answer because Weasley had thrown off McNair who was holding him back, knocking Bellatrix over, her wand sending a sea of red sparks right at Hermione, hitting her right in the face. The muggleborn dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes and all hell broke loose. 

Until his tattoo began to burn. He was coming.


	2. Chapter 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's Punishment.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners (JK Rowling). The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

It all happened so fast. It was all a blur. And he could literally do nothing, wand-less and shaken. Weasley was wrestling with someone, screaming bloody murder to try and reach an unconscious Granger and the swelling upon Potter’s face was beginning to fade, his scar showing almost as clear as day. Spells were being cast left and right; a sea of red and green sparks flying through the air. Granger lay a few feet from him, a small pool of blood underneath where she landed, and her sweater ripped to shreds. He reached for her slowly unsure what he would do when he had gotten ahold of her but someone came running past, breaking the progress he had made. 

“Nooo! Call him, call him!” he heard his aunt bellow as a loud cracking sound echoed through the large foyer, signaling the disappearance of both Potter and Weasley with the snap of what appeared to be his old House Elf’s finger. Weasley’s voice echoed throughout the now silent room, calling one last time for Hermione, even sending a shiver up his spine. But it was too late. Voldemort was already on his way and Potter had just slipped between their fingers. The silence was deafening as everyone tried to process what had just happened.

Bellatrix stalked through the hall, hair a mess and wand still at the ready as the familiar whooshing sound signaled the dreaded arrival of their Dark Lord. Draco’s breath quickened as he stood up, preparing for the worst as half of his attention was full of impending doom as Voldemort approrached, the other half painfully aware of Granger’s painful breaths piercing the silence. 

“Well?” Voldemort asked, despite already sensing the issue. “Where is he?!” he bellowed, the glass windows shaking from the volume and the fear rippling throughout. 

“We had him, my lord. We had him,” Bellatrix squeaked, looking like a forlorn puppy dog awaiting a beating hand as she cautiously approached her master. “He was here but..a a house elf, their house elf set him free!” she bellowed, pointing a finger at the Malfoy’s, all standing together with wide eyes at the correct albeit surprising accusation. He merely raised a white hand to silence his most devoted follower, approaching the Malfoy’s, Draco in front, slowly as if already knowing the entire story. 

“Draco, Draco, Draco,” he said, eerily calm as he approached. “Is that true? Was he here? And your family,” he said, looking from one to the other, his parents attempting to standing up straight and stand their ground. “Your families house elf… set him free. Is that right?” 

Draco felt as if he couldn’t speak if he tried, his throat dry and his nerves at an all time high. He simply nodded. Before he knew it, he was being grabbed by the scruff of the neck and thrown halfway across the room, an audible gasp heard form his mother as she pleaded with the Dark Lord to spare her son. He skidded across the marble floor, his body plastering itself right into the rousing Gryffindor who awoke at the sudden impact of his body. 

“Ahh, what do we have here?” asked the Dark Lord, tone changing completely as he gazed over at the pile of limbs, distinguishing who the other pair belonged to quickly. “How seldom do things come… full circle,” he said, raising his wand, a product once own by his father, and pointing it at the whimpering Gryffindor who had managed to let one word escape from her bloody lip as he lifted her body into the air.

“Draco…” she pleaded before she was lifted, head bobbing lazily, not having the strength to hold her own head up. He was frozen to the ground. What was Voldemort going to do? What should he do? What could he do? He looked past them both and into his mothers pleading eyes. He pushed himself up into a standing position, limping slightly from his collision. 

“What should we do with you?” he asked, twirling her slowly in the air as if admiring his kill tauntingly. “What do you suggest Draco? This was your task, after all..” continued to taunt the Dark Lord. 

Think, Draco. Think. He stammered for a moment, wishing he had his wand on him. Not like he was exactly a match for Voldemort or that he would necessarily use it but he was definitely missing it’s comfort. Apparently he was taking too long to rack his brain for ideas that didn’t end up with Granger, him or his family getting hurt. 

“Nothing? Tsk, tsk. How disappointing, my dear boy… Avada--!”

“Wait!” he bellowed. He wasn’t even sure where his words would take him until an idea popped into his head at the very last moment. He stammered for a moment, feeling Voldemort's increasing gaze burning a hole in his skin with its intensity. 

“What if we used her as bait?” blurted out Draco. Fortunately for him but possibly unfortunately for Granger, that seemed to have piqued his interest. He looked down at Draco with his dark eyes, lips twisting into a sinister smile, making the hair's on the back of his neck stand on end. He let Granger fall to the ground with a thud and the unmistaken sound of bone breaking, causing more than one stomach in the room to churn, his mother even more pale than she normally was. 

“What a brilliant idea. I presume you’ll have no problem looking after the prisoner?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. He threw a glare at his father and Bellatrix before disappearing into the night. He just stared down at the broken Gryffindor, mouth somewhat agape at the new task dangled in front of him but was thankful that he and his family remain unscathed. At least, for now. 

An uneasy sound escaped from his mother’s pursed lips, her hand resting on her heaving breast as the events of what had just happened came crashing down. His father, however, couldn’t contain his emotions quite as well as his mother. The gangly man stalked towards Draco and hissed right at him. 

“Do as he says. You can- NOT fail again,” he said with a note of finality, looking down at his son in disgust. He would have never directly disobeyed the Dark Lord but he sure had done a good job evading his reach during his “remission”. His father was a coward and had unfortunately, passed on to Draco who had to actively attempt to not run with his tail between his legs like his father. He watched as he turned and stopped, looking back at Draco, eyes full of misplaced rage as he raised his hand, swinging it back hard against Draco’s pale cheek, scratching him with his plethora of rings that clung to his long fingers. He winced and frowned as he father headed out of the room still bubbling with rage as his son’s mishap. He looked down at his task and rolled his eyes, dabbing at his cheek with the back of his sleeve. 

He wanted her to live but not live with him. He sighed and raised her up in the air, similarly to how Voldemort had done previously and floated her moaning body up to his room. He watched the scarlet drops of blood drip from her body and stain their Mahogany floors. He was hoping it was something relatively simple that he could fix and wouldn’t require any outside help. He kicked open the door to his bedroom with his foot and looking around as he entered. What was he supposed to do with her? He groaned as the inevitable, at least for the time being, reeled in and he let her land softly atop his exceptionally inviting bed. It had been a day so far, to say the least and the only thing he wanted to do was crawl inside those satin sheets and sleep for the next day or two. 

He stared down at the limp Gryffindor, eyes fluttering open lazily but shutting right away. She was fighting to stay awake and not succumb to the unconscious state luring her in but she was failing. Her sweater was ripped to shreds revealing her porcelain skin littered with cuts and scraps, a stark contrast against her light skin. He gathered the necessary supplies, throwing off his robes and rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, dabbing once again at the most annoying cut near his eyebrow before heading back over to his bed to find a terrified and very much so awake Hermione. She stared at him frightened and wide eyed, staring around frantically as she tried to push herself up into a sitting position, the shoulder of her sweater revealing much more than the remnants of Bellatrix’s rogue spell. He caught his dark eyes landing on the obvious, her exposed breast clad in a respectable black bra. 

“Wh-what do you want?” she asked, voice cracking slightly and his sight was brought up to her face, locking onto her emerald eyes. He watched her gaze look up to the spot his father had whacked him and he cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly before remembering her question.

He held the bandages he clung in his hands in the air, gesturing to the obvious as he approached her, watching her fail at merely sitting up. What was she, all brain and no strength? He knew the thought was unfair but he couldn’t help how she annoyed him so easily. 

“Sit still. Who knows how deep those cuts go,” he said and with one fell swoop of his wand, he sliced the raggedy sweater right down the front, exposing her entire abdomen, a crimson blush creeping across her cheeks, her arm having slung over her chest in response to her sweater being slashed and he couldn’t contain his eye roll.

“Calm down, Granger. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he said as he sat down delicately on the bed next to her to get to work attending to her wounds. She couldn’t die on his watch.


	3. Chapter 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione begins to come around... in Draco Malfoy's bed no less.

Hermione’s head bobbed up and down as she filtered in and out of consciousness, flashes of activity muddled with pitch-blackness. She saw Draco, standing near her, looking absolutely horrified but didn’t know why. Not until she realized what was happening and who was doing it. She barely managed to let his name escape her lips as she was out once again. She remembered waking up, once again being levitated but didn’t know where. Were they going up stairs? Why did she hurt absolutely everywhere? She could feel a tear fall from her eye as she slipped back in and out until finally coming to in… well, she wasn’t sure where she was. She stared up at an ornate ceiling, waves of pain crashing over her as she attempted to sit up, eyes staring right at one of the few people she did not want to see. Or to see her in such a vulnerable state. Even weak and injured, she would rather suffer alone than in his presence. 

Hermione looked up at Draco as he stood over her holding a plethora of different bandages and healing potions. Her eyes looked up to the cut dripping over his eyebrow and before she could even question what had happened to him, she winced as she failed yet again at sitting up, looking down at the blood the covered her chest. Her vision blurred and her consciousness threatened to waver but she willed herself awake. She gave up and let her top half flop back down onto the bed the moment her sweater was sliced in two. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks and attempted to cover herself up but every movement hurt. She didn’t have the energy to fight back, she barely had the energy to stay awake. 

She scoffed at his comment. 

A quick-witted reply wasn’t waiting at the ready and this puzzled her. She brushed it off as a symptom of her wounds, which were making her woozier by the moment. She needed a distraction from her Slytherin counter part tending to her bare chested wounds. The mere thought raised yet another blush. This was ridiculous. What did she care what Malfoy saw?

“What happened to you?” she managed to squeak out, tilting her head slightly to the side, still resting upon his mattress. 

==

Draco frowned at her question and found himself getting increasingly annoyed. He had a few measly scratches upon his face and she looked like she was practically butchered and she asked about him. He needed to actively suppress yet another eye roll. He knew she was probably in shock but he still couldn’t help the frustration it caused him. What a typical Gryffindor, worrying about others. 

“Maybe you should worry about the mess you’ve gotten yourself into instead,” he replied before staring down at her wounds once again, trying to ignore the fact that she was half naked in front of him. He racked his brain for which spell to use. She would probably be better at this than him but she was in no shape to heal herself.

He raised his wand, noting the fear still flashing over her features.

“It’ll be fine. They don’t look too deep,” he said before waving his wand over her, clearing all of the blood away to be able to actually see what he was working with. His stomach churned lightly at some of the deeper cuts, skin separating to reveal the fatty under layer, a most unpleasant sight to behold. He could hear the faintest moan escape her lips and he could only imagine how painful it was. His small cuts were pulsating slightly and they were only minor. Before he continued, he rummaged through the pile of supplies he had gathered earlier, rummaging around for one to ease the pain. He picked up a rather putrid looking potion, scrunching his nose up slightly at the mere thought of having to drink it.

“This will help the pain,” he said, watching her as she pathetically tried to sit up again, failing instantly. He sighed, it wasn’t fair of him to expect much of her but he still found himself getting annoyed at the drop of a hat. Was it her? Was it the situation in its entirety? He didn’t have time to sort out his feelings on the matter. He bent down, the front of his body almost pressing down against hers, as he slung an arm underneath her neck, the other hand holding the healing potion.

“This will help the pain,” he said as he lifted her head slightly, pressing the potion to her lips and lifting, some of the green liquid spilling past her lips as she drank and sputtered, coughing slightly. Eventually, the entire potion made it down and she flopped back down on the bed as he removed his arm like a pile of dead weight. Draco wasn’t one to empathize; to put himself in the shoes of others. But he couldn’t only imagine if the situation was reversed. Would he allow her to heal him? They didn’t have the best track record for even being civil. Little did she know, he was obligated to heal her. 

“W-.. Why are you doing this?” she managed to sputter out, a small wave of relief from the potion wafting over her. He could see her tensed body relax slightly, her chest still heaving up and down and he brushed it off as a symptom of the shock she was in.

“Because I have to,” he retorted before lifting his wand again. Lets get this over with.

“Vulnera Sanentur,” he spoke, the very spell he had used on him when he and Potter got into their spat in the bathroom last year. He knew it would provide handy at some point in time. He would have to thank Professor Snape when he saw him next. He watched the wounds stitch themselves together, a rather unpleasant sight to behold so he had no problems averting his eyes until the entire procedure was done. He could hear her sounds of discomfort and didn’t know why that upset him. Luckily, he need not suffer for long as she slipped back into unconsciousness the moment the healing was complete, finally free of pain. Or so he assumed.

He stood and ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh. He paced back and forth; the still half clad girl sprawled across his bed. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just leave her half naked, could he? That would raise more questions than it would answer and he just didn’t have it in him to answer any questions. 

A wave of exhaustion came over him as the events of the day began to actually settle in. Just this morning, he was having breakfast in the Great Hall receiving a howler from the Dark Lord himself and now he had a half naked Granger in his bed. His brain wasn’t processing correctly, he didn’t know what to do or which direction to go next. He grabbed a blanket and pulled it over the girl, covering her up to her chin and did the only thing his tired brain could think of. He plopped his exhausted body down on the few feet of bed she wasn’t sprawled upon and the moment his head hit the pillow, he would succumb to sleep. 

Unfortunately, in his dazed state, he didn’t think of how that would go down in the morning.

He awoke to a rustling, panicked sound as Granger was shoving off the covers in a frantic fit. He could hear her frantic tone as his eyes fluttered open, staring at the ceiling. He simply turned his head to face her, watching her talk to herself as she attempted to get out of bed.

“What in the world? What am I doing here? 

“..in his bed…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4.

Why did it feel like he only slept for five seconds? Why did he still feel exhausted? Probably because he was awoken by a frantic and still half naked Granger. It was too early for this shit. 

“Calm down,” he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position, watching her attempt to do the same and flop right over the side of the bed, falling to the floor with a thud followed by a groan. He, in turn, groaned slightly at this inconvenience and let his feet touch down against the cold floors of his bedroom, making his way around his bed to see her in a crumpled mess on the floor. His bedroom door flung open to his mother standing there, a look of disapproval across her face.  
“I thought I heard a noise,” she said, staring down her long nose at the mess that was Hermione, ripped sweater and all, body seething with disapproval as if it was a punishment he chose instead of the Dark Lord. 

He sauntered over to his door and shut it slowly in her face. “We’re fine,” he said as the door latched shut, hearing his mother turn to herself as she retreated back to wherever she came from. He sighed, stretching his arms over his head, his shirt lifting to reveal his flat, pale stomach before he realized what he had gotten up for. He looked down at her and sighed. He didn’t realize how weak she would still be. What kind of spell did she get hit with anyways?  
He could hear her make some noise that sounded awfully close to a sob and it made his entire body tense up awkwardly. What was he supposed to do? Comfort and empathy wasn’t his strong suit. He opened his dresser and grabbed a black T shirt that would undoubtedly swallow her whole but at least cover her up. He didn’t need her half naked distracting him. 

He had thought of merely throwing the shirt at her and letting her fend for herself but something stopped him from doing so. He bent down once he reached her and slung an arm underneath her armpit and yanked her up to a standing position in which she immediately fell into him, unable to keep herself steady.  
“Sorry..” she mumbled.  
She, once again, has the audacity to apologize for something completely beyond her control. Was that a Gryffindor trait? It was highly annoying.  
“Stop apologizing. You’re not even remotely the reason you’re here and yet, here you are,” he said, one arm around her waist to hold her up, the other still clinging to the shirt he had brought for her.  
“What do you mean? Why am I here?” She asked, her nose scrunching up slightly as she racked her brain, quickly putting all the pieces together from the last night becoming more fearful as she put what she had known together.  
He sighed, again, knowing that he could at least explain what he knew. He felt he owed her that.  
“Let’s get you... covered up,” he said, before explaining what was going on because he was suddenly aware of her bare chest pressed up against him, issuing him for support. He was surprised by the lack of protest from her but he assumed it was the remnants of whatever injury that spell caused. He could tell she was just as uncomfortable as he felt but there was nothing he could do about that. He backed her up to his bed and let her sit down so at least he wouldn’t have to hold onto her like a child for much longer.  
He watched her struggle to pull the rest of her sweater off and couldn’t help the small chuckle it would illicit from him.  
“Let me,” he said, pulling the sweater off of one arm, then the other. He cleared his throat slightly as she sat there topless in front of him, goosebumps covering her entire body.  
==  
Hermione sat there, arms folded over her chest, trying to cover as much of her naked body as she could. She was afraid to look at him for some reason as if that would make this situation even worse than it already was. She hadn’t been this naked in front of a person of the opposite sex before and of course, the first time she was, it was Malfoy. She wanted to push him away, to fight him off, to smack him for even looking in her direction but she couldn’t. She felt helpless and absolutely hated it.  
She finally let her eyes gaze up to meet his the same time he looked down to meet hers. Her emerald eyes locked in with his dark ones and she felt even more transparent than ever. Thankfully, he caught on and slipped the shirt over her head, helping with her arms, and sliding it down her body, cold fingers grazing her warm skin as he did so. She pulled it down quickly, soon swimming in Draco Malfoy’s shirt. She didn’t want to dwell upon it.  
“Why am I here? Where is Harry? Ron?” She asked, knitting her brows together, searching his face for any clues, any hints as to how much trouble she was in. Why hadn’t they come for her? Why would they leave her here? Was it that bad? Her stomach dropped.  
==  
Draco was glad she was finally covered up so he could focus instead of worrying about averting his gaze. The last thing he needed was to fawn over a Gryffindor. He ran a hand through his blonde hair as he pondered exactly what he was going to say. He wasn’t even sure the full extent of why she was here but what he did know, he wasn’t exactly excited about relaying.  
He turned to look at her, opened his mouth but nothing came out. He sighed and looked away again, biting his bottom lip. If he revealed that she was here for bait and then Merlin knows what, she wouldn’t exactly handle that news well.  
Thankfully, his train of thought was interrupted by a loud bellow from below.  
“Draco Lucius!”  
He grabbed his wand from his bedside table and tucked it into the robes he was still wearing from yesterday and stopped at the door.  
“Stay put, Granger. I’ll be-“  
“Draco!!!”  
“.. back,” he said, opening his door and locking it behind him, wondering what happened to her wand on the way down. She didn’t still have it, did she? No, there’s no way.

==

“But..” she began but was cut off when he told her to stay. She frowned, glaring at him. “Who do you think you are?!” She yelled after him as he was being yelled for from another direction. She huffed, a headache forming behind her eyes at how much she was frowning and how frustrated she was by how weak her body was. She tried to stand but instantly fell down to her knees, wincing slightly. Stupid bony knees. It took what seemed to be forever to pull herself back up. She wanted to escape, to leave, but didn’t have the strength to do so. So she laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like eternity before the door opened again. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and audibly gasped when she saw the state he was in. Why did she feel a wave of sympathy for him? For Draco?  
She watched as he shut the door behind him, bruised and bloody from head-to-toe and she just stared at him with wide eyes. 

“What happened?”


	5. Chapter 5.

“How dare you disrespect this family like that?!”

Blow after blow, he was starting to see spots.

“Lie to me again and there will be consequences!”

This one knocked him to the ground, coughing up what he hoped wasn’t a literal lung. 

“Should’ve just killed the mudblood then we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Three people, Draco! I’ve had to hear from three people that my son couldn’t handle a silly mudblood. THREE! Since last night!”

Each blow came harder than the last. He’d been used to this treatment, having obviously broken a rule or two during his lifetime but disrespecting his father by not murdering someone was apparently the straw that broke the camels back. His left eye had almost swollen completely shut by the time he had made it back to his bedroom, leaning against the wall to support himself. 

He felt pathetic. Beyond pathetic. His father left him in a messy heap upon the stone cold floors, his mother stalking in the shadows, unable to help. She wouldn’t dare disobey her husband, not even for her child. A reality Draco had gotten used to and yet he always got his hopes up that this time, this would be the time she stepped in. But once again, he was filled with disappointment. He picked his crippled body up and dragged it up the two flights of stairs until he reached his room, hanging on the door knob, each breath harder than the last, piercing his side with each inhale but he finally made it. He had only momentarily forgotten what or who had waited for him behind the door but that dream was turned into a reality when he stumbled into his room, practically stumbling right into her.

“What happened?” he heard her mutter in shock. He must look even worse than he felt. He shut the door behind him and let his long body slid down the back of it until he fell into a sitting position, knees at his chest. He let his head rest against the wooden door, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. He dug into his pocket, wincing slightly as he did so, finally grasping his wand. 

“Oh, nothing,” he said, finally answering her question. He didn’t have it in him to lie or even come up with a quick-witted reply that typically came so smoothly. “Just being an-“ he said, groaning as he healed the obviously broken rib causing him the most pain, a large snap and a suppressed moan later, he could at least breath easier. He sat up straight, head spinning ever-so-slightly as he straightened himself up. “..being a disappointment to the family, the usual,” he said, finally looking over at her through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. The worried look plastered across her face made his stomach churn.

 

==  
Hermione just gaped at him, sitting forward on the bed as he struggled to get himself into a sitting position. Her eyes frantically searched his body, each injury looking worse than the last. She had heard muffled yelling when Draco was gone but couldn’t make out whom it was. Who had done this to him in a mere twenty minutes? What could it have been? Her stomach plummeted. Was it about her? Was she causing him this trouble? Her voice caught in her throat but luckily, he finally spoke. 

She frowned at his vague answer, watching him fix what seemed to be a fractured rib. Her stomach was feeling queasy by this point. She wished she could help, a sentiment she thought she’d never have. Helping Malfoy would’ve been the stuff of nightmares but he just seemed so… vulnerable. She could do it, she was just weak. Her injuries paled in comparison and that gave her the small rush of adrenaline needed to allow her to crawl down to her knees and stop in front of him. She didn’t even know where to begin, didn’t know how to help.

His answer tugged at her heart strings and that made her question her sanity. She already was down on her knees attempting to help the Slytherin boy but now she actually… pitied him? He was obviously between a rock and a hard place but she only hoped that his own family wouldn’t have done this to him.

“Let me,” she said softly, leaning forward and letting her pale fingers touch his, gently prying his wand out from his grip, awaiting his protest that never came. She took his wand in her hand and looked him up and down again, unsure where to begin. The entire front of his shirt was soaked in blood and she could only imagine what damage was underneath. She scooted closer, watching his head bob slightly as if trying not to slip into unconsciousness. 

“Try not to kill me, Granger,” he choked out, letting his head rest against the door once again, looking down at her through his good eye. Hermione let out a small chuckle, thankful for the momentary comedic levity before she would begin. She let her fingers tug at the hem of his shirt for a second before lifting it up, his pale skin littered with bloody wounds. She swallowed, waving his wand over his chest and abdomen, erasing all the blood to try and localize the source. She could feel the smallest blush creep up into her cheeks, as she couldn’t help but notice his rather athletic frame. He looked so tall and thin, she would never have guessed that amount of muscle would’ve been hiding underneath his garb.

“You’re.. blushing,” he blurt out, which caused her to blush even more, hiding her embarrassment with a frown. 

“Oh, you shut your mouth,” she said, waving her wand over the deep gash in his left side and the one from his right chest, watching the skin practically stitch itself back together, leaving massive bruises in it’s wake. She let his shirt fall back down, covering his newly healed stomach. She brought her eyes up to meet his and scooted closer, shuffling on her knees until she was right in front of him, mere inches between them. She let her fingers reach up and gently grab his chin, turning his face so she could fix his swollen eye, her breathing quickening slightly as their close proximity became more and more obvious. 

“Episky,” she said, watching the swelling and redness in his eye dissipate, revealing his dark green eye staring back up at her, his gaze making her slightly uncomfortable. She did the same with the cut in his lip, turning his chin the other direction to reach it. She was surprised how little trouble she was receiving; both from Draco and his wand. She could barely tell she wasn’t using her own wand and she could barely tell the boy a few inches from her was Draco. A compliant Draco. Hermione sat back on her feet, staring over at the semi-healed boy who stared right back at her.

==

Draco could feel the internal protest as she slunk towards him eventually reaching for his wand. What was she going to do, finish him off? He wasn’t sure why his mind went straight there, knowing she didn’t have it in her to kill anyone. He was still surprised when she lifted his shirt, the touch of her fingers grazing lightly over his cool skin made chills appear all over his body and he hoped to Merlin she wouldn’t notice. He swallowed, a lump the size of Hogwarts in his throat. He winced as she began to heal his wounds, sighing in relief when she finished with his torso wounds, the feeling of relief spreading through his body as he began to heal inside and out. 

He felt her move closer, her breath ricocheting off of his skin, fingers grasping his chin. He locked eyes with her, watching her concentrate, finally able to see her, the same worry still spread across her face. How could she worry for him when he was holding her captive? How was that possible? Another touch at his chin and his fat lip was healed.

He stared across at her as she leaned back, feeling the absence near him and not necessarily enjoying it. He cleared his throat, unsure the words he spoke would be heard.

“Thank you,” he said, not necessarily relishing in the fact of having to thank Granger for healing him, his pride definitely taking a hit between this and the altercation with his father.

“Who did this to you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far! As I said, it's a slow burn Dramione. Plus Severus will be in there somewhere, too. Feel free to let me know what you think!


End file.
